Sign of the Wolf
by Ghrei
Summary: It started to move down the aisle towards the crates, claws making ominous clicks with every step. "Canus lycanthropos," breathed Helen. "A werewolf."
1. The Warehouse

**Chapter 1  
The Warehouse **

* * *

Henry hated warehouses.

For one, they smelled. He wrinkled his nose and his eyes darted around the shelves and general debris of the place, searching in vain for whatever the source of the sickeningly sharp, sour redolence that perfumed the room. It didn't help that his werewolf-nose was exceptionally prone to pungent odors such as these.

Henry tried to concentrate on breathing through his mouth. Inhale, exhale, evenly, and (somewhat) quietly. All he managed to do, however, was attract the irritated attention of Kate and Will. Both flashed him shut-the-hell-up glares and reoriented their weapons so they could cover themselves more effectively. All Henry could do to appear useful was _not_ drop the bulky analyzing equipment in his arms. No easy task, but also not a definitely badass one. Even behind Will's spare glasses, Henry could detect a hint of mirth at his own awkward predicament.

Score one for the nerd herd.

It took all of Henry's concentration and coordination to keep up with his friends. He had to give it to them - they were quick, efficient, and deadly. And Will had only been doing this for two short years (Henry didn't want to think about how long Kate had been in _her_ business). They moved up one aisle, down another, wove around de-shelved boxes and detritus, guns drawn, faces set. Henry scurried after them.

Thin, shiny threads of blood lay around the next corner, and Henry watched as Will and Kate tensed, took defensive positions. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Part of the smell mystery solved: the metallic filaments floating through the air were explained.

That only left, oh, the rest of the horrible stench.

Having cleared the aisle in front of them and around the corner behind them, Will knelt next to the blood and examined it more closely.

"Drag marks," Kate sniffed, her large brown eyes darting to the metal shelves around them.

"Yeah," said Will, frowning, meditative. "Leading away from here. It must have gotten one of the workers." He looked up now, his eyes following the scarlet trail.

"Whatever _it_ is," muttered Henry.

The three of them started to follow the blood, which started about halfway up the aisle, and continued around the corner up ahead to the left, heading towards the larger, center aisle of the warehouse.

"Jesus," said Kate. The trail led away from them for about fifty feet, then around a second corner several aisles down. "This thing didn't let go, huh?"

_Boom._

As if in answer to Kate's rhetorical question, a shotgun blast exploded behind and to the right of the group. Everyone whirled around in time to hear the _click_-_shick_ in reload. And the yells that were a mix of profanity, nonsense shouts, and strangely animalistic guttural noises.

_BOOM. click-shick. BOOM. click-_

A final yell, but this time it was cut short, strangled. Will, Kate, and Henry quickened their pace towards the noises to a dead run.

They skidded around the corner in question in mere seconds - but they knew they were too late. Will grimaced, Kate wrinkled her nose and stalked towards the blood-spattered shotgun.

"Still got some slugs left," she mused as she inspected it. _Click-shick._ Even Will winced at the noise.

Henry, for his part, could not believe how indifferent she sounded. A man - or what was _left_ of a man - in tattered, absolutely shredded overalls lay on the floor, his cool, dead blue eyes staring open at the ceiling. Wounds were torn and sliced all over his body. Neck, torso, arms... Two fingers were missing, and the man's face was a bloody, fleshy mess. Henry put his wrist to his offending nose. All he could think about was how sweet the scent of vaporized blood was.

Henry felt Will's strong fingers wrap around his shoulder and was glad for the comfort, but couldn't help shying away a little. The sight of six pints of crimson liquid pouring all over the floor made his stomach squirrelly.

"You alright?"

Henry averted his eyes.

"Uh," he tried to wrench his eyes away from the sea of red - "yeah. Let's just.... Let's just go, okay?" He rose quickly, ignoring his fluttering knees and gripping the equipment with a grim look in his eye.

And tried to ignore the scratchy noises of claws on the cement floor.

* * *

"Magnus told us she'd be entering through this end," Will said under his breath a few minutes later. Kate had armed herself with the pre-owned shotgun, ignoring the surprised and horrified looks from her companions.

"She could be -" started Kate, shotgun slung over her shoulder. Relaxed, Henry noted. He shook his head and decided he'd never understand her.

"Will!" came the strangled yell, not two aisles away. "Kate! Henry!"

Three sets of legs tensed, ran, and flew around one corner, then another, towards Helen's voice.

They found her and the Big Guy huddled behind a few wooden crates, providing covering fire to a man who wore coveralls that resembled those that had been a bloody mess just a few short minutes ago. This one seemed to be smarter than the last: instead of standing still, hurling curses, he turned tail and bolted towards the crates. Will, Kate and Henry followed suit, afraid the thing they were fighting would fire back.

Will turned to Helen, ready to obey or assimilate any musings she might have, and Henry did as well. Kate however, had other plans.

_Boom. click-shick._

"Kate!" screamed Helen again, and made a grab for the shotgun. Kate recoiled like a wounded animal, spooked. Henry and Will caught a glance of her wild, fierce, and scared brown eyes, but were rewarded for their curiosity seconds later by an indifferent glazed look.

"_What?"_ hissed Kate. Henry thought she resembled a spitting cat. Neck arched, shoulders hunched, eyes narrowed to slits. And armed, too. "That _thing - "_

"Is an abnormal," Helen finished, reserved and calm. "And at the Sanctuary, we give all abnormals equal opportunities and treatment."

"But," said Kate. "Did you _see_ what that thing did to this guy's buddy?" She thumbed in the direction of the stranger. "The dude was torn to shreds!"

"The _same _treatment, Kate. No matter how deadly."

Kate huffed and leaned back against the crate angrily, ramming against it with a muffled creak.

A snuffling, snarling, scratching noise reacted.

Henry could see even Helen's eyes had widened. Henry (along with everyone else) chanced a glance around their barrier to see what they were up against.

A massive hulk of matted dark fur heaved at the end of the aisle - it was almost large enough to take up the entire space between shelves. It was semi-erect, hunched over at the waist, long, furry arms shoved forward, almost like a barrier. The thing had to be at least eight feet tall, and perhaps over half of that in width. It hand strange appendages. The only way Henry could explain the front ones were "paw-hands", but even that was insufficient. They were augmented with long, sharp claws.

In general, the thing resembled a wolf. It was tail-less, and the ears were set lower than those of a wolf. He couldn't complain about the great maw of the thing though - it was huge, a lined with a keen, bloodstained set of teeth. Every inch of the being was a toned, muscled animal, down to the furrows in the great brow. Down to the piercing, savage yellow eyes. Henry noted dark red mats in the fur. Apparently, the beast had been hit by the gunfire.

It looked one way, then the other. It took a long, deep breath, nostrils flaring. And it started to move down the aisle towards the crates, claws making ominous clicks with every step.

"_Canus lycanthropos_," breathed Helen.

"A werewolf," translated Will.

Kate made a move to shoot it, but Helen waved madly at the Big Guy.

"Tranquilizer!"

The Big Guy obliged with a grunt, and the mass of matted brown fur yelped, snarling, catching the dart in the shoulder. Lowering the front two paws to the ground, it growled and started to lope towards them.

Henry's breath caught in his throat.

"Double dose!" yelled Helen, nearly drowning out another deafening _BOOM_ from Kate's shotgun.

The werewolf caught the second dose in the same arm, causing it to go completely limp. Momentum sent the creature off balance, and soon, a projectile made out of fur, teeth and claws crashed into the nearest bunch of crates, showering everyone with splinters.

The man with the coveralls lost it then. He jumped up from the hiding spot, and despite Kate's mad grasps at him to drag him back, he sprinted away, screaming.

"Dammit," said Kate. Everyone turned to look at their other guest.

Henry could see the moment the movement was caught in his kindred's eye. After landing unceremoniously, it had relaxed a little - still ravenous and ferocious, but it was not entirely sure if it was anywhere near any prey. After all, they could have moved while it was busy trying to regain feeling in it's arm. The screaming form of the warehouse worker eliminated any doubt the werewolf may have had that they were still near, and still protected by very breakable crates.

Groaning and screaming (if werewolves could scream) in fury, it regained a bit of balance. Close, now closer the ever, it leaned its enormous maw over the edge of the crates.

Everyone froze with fear. Warm spittle flew at them from the beast's heavy exhales. Henry thought the teeth had to be at least four inches long.

And he finally knew what the rest of the horrible stench was after the creature's breath hit him full in the face.

It took one breath, then another. Eyes darted between each warm, soft body. Finally, they rested on Kate. For a long, still moment, _everyone_ stared at Kate.

"Triple dose, my friend!" Helen said, her strong voice shattering the silence around them. Will, Henry and Kate jumped at her sudden outburst, and the beast reacted, too - now hefting a huge paw above Helen Magnus' head.

And with a clean sounding _shick_, a final, triple dose of tranquilizing serum hit the werewolf in the chest. The massive hulk stop, paw still raised, and swayed. Henry thought he saw a small look of surprise in the golden eyes.

Then they rolled back into the immense head, and the beast toppled backwards, smashing the remaining few crates.

* * *

**A/N: **Alright, so my first Sanctuary fic is underway. I hope you like it! Also - I do not own Sanctuary. Please don't make that assumption, and don't forget to review!


	2. Silver Bullets

**Chapter 2  
Silver Bullets**

* * *

_THREE HOURS EARLIER_

Henry enjoyed working with his tech and gadgets for more than just geeky nirvana. As his fingers flew over multiple keyboards, and his eyes scanned monitor after monitor of security scans, Henry's mind was forced to focus.

The stillness and concentration required made him gain control of himself, his emotions. This discipline, he liked to think, kept him sane - kept him from losing it when he learned his favorite TV show was canceled or when his favorite comic book sold out.

Because nobody liked a an irritated, out-of-control werewolf in a comic book shop.

He took a moment to lean back in his chair. The daily diagnostic was over, and he'd do an annual auxiliary systems check later on. He briefly checked the alarms array. Nothing.

For a moment.

Henry looked back to check the World of Warcraft updates -

And then the alarms electrified the air around him, turning the array into a flashing blur of color and sound. Henry jumped out of his chair at the racket.

"Henry!" Helen's voice, electronically distorted, came at him from the com on his desk.

He reached up from his current position on the floor and felt around for the 'Speak' button. Pens, glasses, and comic book paraphernalia scattered around and rolled off the table as he searched for it. Mental note: Hire a maid. Finally, he found it, after much straining, panting, and scattering.

"Yeah," answered Henry, still trying to regain his feet. He tried to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"What's going on?" Helen asked, and Henry detected a tinge of uncertain fear in her voice. "It's not -"

"No," cut in Henry after a quick glance at the security screens. "The forcefield's not down. Thank God," he added in a mutter.

"Agreed," said Helen.

"Nope, it looks like a sighting of some kind," Henry continued, studying the alarm lights. "Or an attack. Apparently someone saw a lot of blood and a big furry monster ..."

"Where?"

"Industrial district. Lot of storage facilities, empty warehouses, stuff like that. Not a lot of people, but plenty of hiding spots." Henry's fingers danced over his keyboard, pinpointing the location. "It was first spotted hanging around a warehouse owned by the Turner Shipping Company ... I've sent the address to your phone."

"Good. Get Will and Kate, I'm going to head out now and meet you there. Get some blueprints, take some scanners - "

"Make some tea, dust the servers," finished Henry with a grin. "Yeah, Doc, I know the drill."

"We'll talk strategy on the way," finished Helen, and Henry could _swear_ he heard her laughing as the connection stopped.

* * *

Fur receded into flesh and the gang caught the first 'human' look at their adversary.

It was a bit shocking, really, to watch such a dramatic transformation occur. Bones and joints rearranged themselves with sickening crunches and cracks - even Kate couldn't help but wince as the broad, muscled shoulders diminished sickeningly quickly. Henry noted something else: it was forced, unwanted reversion, change that the creature did not want, could not control. He could empathize, in a way.

Everyone held their breath as the last of the changes transpired. The final patches of the dark, matted hair disappeared to reveal a very lithe, very naked, very _female_ person on the ground.

In a way, she was beautiful: mocha skin and dark waves of black hair, toned muscles. She had twisting, tribal looking tattoos on much of her left side. Threads of them seemed to start on her shoulders and trail down her arms.

Henry and Will gawped, Kate shot them a venomous glare.

She was lying on her back, breath coming in sharp, irregular heaves. Tranquilized people shouldn't breathe like that. Her eyes were all wrong, too - instead of peaceful restfulness, her feral golden eyes were glassy and wide, crazed with pain.

Helen voiced these facts and knelt beside her, taking her pulse. She noted one, two, three gunshot wounds: one had found it's way into her side. And her now considerably smaller figure was now dealing with six doses of tranquilizer. Helen quickly removed the darts, scowling at herself for not thinking of this possibility sooner.

"No choice," came the gruff vocalization from the Big Guy, reading her thoughts as usual. Helen gave him a grim smile in thanks. She busied herself with taking into account her patient's deteriorating condition. Her breath was even shorter now, only quick, subtle changes in her chest. Her eyes were wide - yellow pools (with the cats-eye slit of a pupil Helen had observed in Henry) dilated, fearful. No peace came to the werewolf-girl with the onrushing blackness that surrounded her.

With a quick, odd jerk of her head, those yellow eyes stopped looking at Helen and rested themselves on Henry.

Who just happened to be staring right back, along with Will and a decidedly annoyed Kate.

Helen frowned at them. Kate understood her boss's expression and turned away from the injured abnormal, eager to find a different avenue for their attention.

"We'd better check out those drag marks," she snipped, glaring icily at her male teammates. "We never did find out where they ended up."

"That sounds prudent," encouraged Helen, her eyes now narrowed in the exact same irritated way that Kate's were. "I'll tend to her here, but you three need to clear the rest of the place."

Kate sighed and rolled her eyes. "Guys will look at anything female and naked," she mused, seizing Will and Henry by the arms and forcing them to unglue their eyes from the bare sable flesh in front of them.

Kate seemed to know exactly where she was - either that or she hadn't succumbed to the disorienting effect the werewolf had had on Will and Henry. It only took her a few decisive turns to find the blood trail again, and not without the less-than-excited expressions on Will and Henry's faces.

"God, you two are _pathetic_," said Kate, sending her eyes ceilingward again. "You'd think you'd never seen a woman naked before." She did a bad job of holding back a cold laugh.

The comment was well placed, though. All Henry could do was splutter and Will knew he was beat, muttering something under his breath and following the trail with his head down. Kate grinned in victory.

They observed, like before, that the crimson stain went about fifty feet up the central hallway and down another corner. The three of them hurried along the sides of it, careful not to tread on the blood at all. In a matter of seconds, they'd reached the end of the trail and approached the corner - Will and Kate cleared the area quickly, then turned the corner with Henry on their heels.

They'd been expecting another body, and after the horror of what they'd all seen previously, the shock of seeing someone eviscerated wasn't as atrocious as before. Still, they were more than a little surprised at what awaited them around the corner.

The dead man here wasn't wearing coveralls like the other man was. Instead, he was dressed impeccably well, in a three piece navy suit, no less. Henry couldn't help but note the strange juxtaposition of his dark blue silk tie against the equally dark scarlet of velvety blood. And he wasn't shredded like the other man, either - instead, this man had only a few injuries. A bite on the thigh, and another one on the neck, and perhaps a third nip on the side, but nothing that would have instantly killed him. Henry gritted his teeth when he realized that _this_ man must have bled out. Slowly.

Will knelt next to the body, which was propped up on one of the wooden crates in a seated position. Both Henry and Kate wrinkled their noses at him as he closely inspected the man's wounds and position. Henry fought the urge to plug his nose. Or gag.

Will leaned back on his heels for a moment, lips pursed in thought. "Weird," he said finally, returning to a standing position, putting his hands on his hips in trademark Zimmerman fashion.

"What?" asked Kate. Her previous irritation at him was (almost) replaced by curiosity.

"Well, I don't see any bite-hold marks on him," answered Will, pacing towards the drag marks again. "Which means - "

"That the werewolf thing didn't drag him over here?" finished Kate.

"Yeah. Also, I don't think the werewolf would have had the presence of mind to prop him up like that," Will said, pointing at the man as he knelt by the drag marks. "No offense." Will looked at Henry.

Henry inhaled quickly at his friend's acknowledgement - in actuality, he wasn't offended at all. Mostly, he was sobered. He knew what it felt like to be a part of something as wild, impulsive and instinctive as the wolf, he knew that rational thought really wasn't possible when you were 'the wolf'. He didn't trust himself when he was like that, why should anyone else?

"None taken," said Henry lightly, as he connected the dots in his mind. He moved over towards the crate. Kate took the hint and moved with him. Gingerly, they removed the top of the timber container and lifted it, careful not to disturb the seated body of the well-dressed man. Kate cautiously placed the wooden top on the floor, eyeing the man as if he'd jump to life in protest. Will came up behind them and looked over at the contents.

There was an old six-shooter resting on top of the packing materials: unloaded. Kate picked it up and inspected it, poorly disguising her pleasure. Henry dug through the packing peanuts a bit deeper.

"Okay," he said as he hefted out a metal briefcase. He rubbed his hands together and opened it. "Um, syringes?"

"Interesting," said Will. He plucked a glass bottle out of the padded foam that surrounded it and six small syringes. "I don't recognize this ... Argentium."

"Maybe Magnus will know," mused Kate. "Let's keep going." She brushed off the next few layers of packing materials, scattering the foam peanuts on the floor. Henry fought back a hiss when some of them fell and floated in the pooled blood.

"Ammo cans," Will observed, and drew one out, opening it carefully. He let out a low whistle when he saw the contents.

"Are those - ?" asked Kate

"Silver bullets," affirmed Henry.

They looked at each other, not knowing whether they should burst out laughing or load the gun.

* * *

**A/N:** First of all, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed. You absolutely made my day and I needed that. I'm really glad everyone likes this, so I'm going to keep on adding chapters. I've gotten a huge plot/subplot thing in mind, so keep your eyes out for that! I hope you like this latest installment - and keep on reviewing!


	3. Doctors and CSIs

**Chapter 3**  
**Doctors and CSIs**

* * *

Helen pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes and sighed.

Even with over a hundred years of medical experience under her belt, the wonders of abnormal biology never ceased to amaze her - that was one of the reasons why she was so very interested in it. There were literally infinite abnormal biologies to be studied across the planet. Species, subspecies, mutations _within_ the species: the possibilities were endless, compounded with the fact that Helen knew even her vast knowledge barely scratched the surface of all abnormal-kind.

Her newest patient was no exception. She'd had _some_ experience with werewolves before. Patching up Henry every so often, however, was child's play compared to the medical acrobatics she had to perform this time. The woman had no less than three gunshot wounds, had been grossly overdosed with tranquilizer, and her natural biochemistry after her shift was already weakened. Needless to say, Helen would have to perform a miracle.

Again.

The ride back from the warehouse was more uneventful than she anticipated - all she found she had to do, really, was keep the bleeding under control. (She praised a deity for giving her the Big Guy and a full tank of gas.) Back at the Sanctuary, however, things started to go downhill, fast.

Two of the gunshot wounds were through-and-through, including the one in her side. The second, in her upper thigh, was bleeding like crazy but wasn't as pressing as the embedded bullet in her shoulder. Helen gritted her teeth. The woman was out cold, thanks to the tranq overdose. Silently grateful for the fact that she wouldn't have to gamble with a concoction of anesthesia, she snatched a forceps off of her tray and started the gruesome work.

Mildly surprised, Helen noted that the bleeding from all of the woman's wounds had dropped off significantly. This was fantastic for her other two wounds, but for the one in her shoulder, Helen noticed that the rapidly growing clots were actually helping to hold the bullet in. Wincing, Helen dug around in the bullet hole and restarted the bleeding - freeing the bullet. She drew it out victoriously, grinned at the Big Guy and dropped it with a dull _clank_ into the pan he offered her.

And then her medical monitors erupted into alarms.

"Respiration is almost nonexistent," muttered Helen cooly, glancing over at her friend. "We can't risk a stimulant with all of the sedatives in her system - get me a bag!"

It took him less than three steps to retrieve the object and hand it over. Helen pushed away some of the less important monitors and took it, placed it over her patient's mouth and nose, and began to squeeze the bag.

"Her heart rate's not where I would like it, either." Helen wiped beads of sweat off her brow. "I can't justify giving anything to her, though. Not with all the tranquilizers she took."

The Big Guy grunted in reply.

"All we can hope for now, really, is that her system can metabolize it all." She took a step back. "And keep her breathing. Other than that, I've done all I can."

It was dicey for the next few hours. Helen was obliged to stay near to her mysterious patient, ready to react to a plummeting heart rate or if her breathing stopped again. She took small comfort in the fact that her blood pressure was holding steady. After sneaking a peak at her bandaged wounds, Helen was shocked to find nearly three-day healing on all of them.

Helen checked the clock: four AM. She'd sent the Big Guy off to bed a few hours previously, after she was sure that the worst of the complications had subsided.

"Make sure everyone else is resting, too," Helen had added, letting herself flop into a nearby chair.

"You will rest as well," the Big Guy countered, giving her a reproachful look. Helen wearily smiled back at him, then glanced back over to the wounded woman. "You've been awake for almost twenty-four hours, and you had to perform minor surgery. You need sleep."

Helen caught his eye for a scant moment and then dropped her gaze to the floor. "I know. But she might crash again, and I need to be here." She paused, seeing that her friend wasn't about to budge. "Tell you what - I'll wake you up in a few hours, and you can stay with her 'till morning."

The Big Guy gave an irritated grunt, but he turned and eventually left the room. Helen sighed deeply and leaned back in her chair. She chanced a another look over at her patient.

She was dressed in a hospital gown now - and bandaged extensively. Aside from the serious bullet wounds, she also sported innumerable cuts and bruises. However, these were healing rapidly as well. Helen was grateful for that. Whatever her immune system was designed to do, at least this one small part of it was working well. Helen smiled weakly, and wondered how long she'd have to wait before her patient showed signs of waking.

* * *

Henry, Will and Kate had to work fast - police were descending on the warehouse, and if they weren't careful they'd be caught with two dead bodies on their hands. Besides, Kate was still carrying around that shotgun. It would take a huge logical leap, but the average police officer wasn't familiar with the average werewolf. So obviously, they'd go with the most plausible explanation: which unfortunately included Kate as the shooter and another equally armed Will all alone in a bloody warehouse.

There wasn't any question how the two men died, so taking the bodies back to the Sanctuary wasn't necessary. Henry took extensive photographs, however, and Will and Kate repacked the crate and moved it into the back of their van. Soon the wail of the sirens penetrated the walls of the warehouse. The three were already safely buckled up and sped away, checking over their shoulders to make sure they weren't being followed.

They drove in silence, and Henry noticed they'd been giving him strange looks the entire way home. He didn't think much of it at the time - after all, they _had_ just witnessed the sick and powerful side of the werewolf.

He hoped he could assure them that they had absolutely nothing to worry about, but in reality, Henry himself wasn't too sure about his ... condition. Often, he had dreams about it, sickeningly vivid, bloodsoaked dreams. There was a lurking feeling of bloodlust he felt continuously, and now, after seeing the bloodshed in the warehouse, Henry was conscious of it. Such _power_, such relentless ability and strength - and he had this power at his fingertips. Looking over at Kate and her smooth, cappuccino colored face that was presently contorted into one of her trademark scowls, he mused that he could crush her neck in his jaws with the merest twitch, and that would be that.

It was thoughts like those that scared the living hell out of him. Not only did he have access to something so powerful, so violent - he also had no power _over_ it. When he changed, he was a relentless, animalistic being of no inhibition, no control. Pure emotion. Pure death. Unlike the abnormals in the Sanctuary that were carefully kept in check and monitored, Henry felt out of control. He was a danger, and today's incident did nothing but confirm it in his mind.

He sat in the car, thinking about all this, not bothering to spend any time on the actual facts of what had happened. He'd leave that to Will. It was what Will was good at, anyway, and as much as Henry loved to play CSI, his heart just wasn't in it tonight.

"Henry, could you do me a favor?" asked Will as the three of them unloaded the crate of surprises from the van.

"What?" said Henry with just a tinge of trepidation.

"Could you check out the Argentium stuff we found? I'd ask Magnus, but I think she's ... a little busy."

Henry winced. "Uh, sure. I guess I could do that." Even though he'd much rather bolt himself in his room. The lab was just as lockable, though. Despite having a lot more breakable things inside.

Will smiled tightly at Henry, and ushered Kate in with himself with a jerk of his chin. "Let's figure this thing out."

* * *

"Seriously, Will," Kate said finally, rubbing her temples. "What else is there to figure out? Big wolf in warehouse. Big wolf in warehouse kills two dudes. End of story."

"I'm not so sure about that. For instance, how did the werewolf get there?" remarked the ever-questioning profiler as he mulled over his laptop. "This is a pretty urban area. According to my research, _Canus lycanthropos_ prefers more vegitation."

"Well, maybe it's a city werewolf. Maybe it likes questionable hot dogs from street corners or something."

Will made a noise that resembled both laughing and snorting. "Doubtful." He changed his position so that he was leaning toward her, more engaged, more animated. He moved his hands when he talked to illustrate his point. "Werewolves are more like animals than humans."

"Duh."

"What I mean is, they don't have preference like humans or other abnormals do. There aren't werewolves that _like_ urban environments, it just doesn't work like that. They're pure instinct. They haven't _ever_ lived in heavily populated areas in history, as far as I can tell. When they're pushed out of their habitat, they just move. Kind of fascinating, considering how territorial they are," he finished, going back to his work.

"Alright, fine. It wasn't from here ... so that means something must have _brought _it here."

"Yeah. I'm looking into the Turner Shipping Company's records now."

"And?"

"That's the weird part. Apparently, there was only one shipment scheduled for today, and that was out of Cairo. It's labeled under antiquities, but I'm going over the transport manuscripts, and it looks like the thing is a heck of a lot lighter than you'd expect for a container filled with Egyptian artwork."

"So, smuggling, maybe?"

Will ignored the unmistakeable gleam in Kate's eye as he went on. "Maybe. But have you heard of the smuggling container in question _losing_ weight?"

"No way." Kate's eyes went wide.

"Way. Take a look," said Will, and he passed the computer to her. She let out a low whistle.

"Neat trick." She drew her eyebrows together and folded her arms. "I guess that's why that guy at the warehouse was packing a pump-action."

Will's face took on an air of recognition. "He must have known that whatever was inside the container was dangerous."

"Or somehow able to cause the container to lose weight -"

"And the guy in the suit must have been there to supervise ... or whatever. He _did_ have a gun with silver bullets handy."

"Not handy enough," corrected Kate.

"True."

There was a reverential moment of silence.

"Who was he, anyway?"

"Don't know yet, but I'm working on it. We should know by morning. The name on the shipping manifest is fake," Will explained, waving away her unasked question. Kate nodded and yawned, stretching.

"Whatimeizzt?"

Will checked his watch and raised his eyebrows. "It's one in the morning."

The door to the study opened and both looked up, startled. The Big Guy stood in the threshold. "Bedtime," he grunted.

Will and Kate did not object.

* * *

**A/N:** Oh my, such a long wait for this next chapter. I'm deeply sorry, but my life exploded on me (it tends to do that). I owe all of you hugs for continuing to add this to your alerts and your reviews. That's just awesome. Hope you like it!


	4. Restraint

**Chapter Four  
Restraint**

**

* * *

**

_Slam. Slam. Slam._

Will quickened his pace when he heard the blows, and broke into a near sprint when he saw the door to the isolation chamber buckling under the strain.

"Magnus!" he called, his laptop under his arm and his glasses slightly askew from lack of sleep. "What happened? Are you okay?" Will skidded around the corner and found Helen leaning heavily on her left arm, panting, pressing her right hand to her bleeding forehead.

She was bleeding from her hairline, and her face was pale and set. Will quickly assessed the damage and ran to get a compress and a bandage. It wasn't so bad, the head was the part of the body that bled the most. After cleaning most of the scarlet liquid from Helen's face and hair, Will found that the gash was negligible. Giving his boss an asprin and taping the bandage on, he waited patiently for an explanation.

"She's clever," Helen began, sipping a glass of water Will had fetched greedily. "I'd restrained her - protocol," she reminded him - "but she seemed docile enough, and she was whimpering about muscle cramps. So I went in, I unbuckled them - she gave me this for my trouble. Luckily I got out of there in time." She gestured to the isolation chamber.

The she-wolf they had rescued from the previous afternoon was now human. How fully, Will couldn't begin to guess. She was still in just a loose hospital gown, and she was taking running leaps at the door, growling and snarling all the way. Will noticed her eyes first - still wild, still feral, still yellow and slitted. Not the eyes of a human.

"What's up?" Helen asked, obviously unfazed by the violent young woman just yards from her.

"Oh, er - I've looked into the TSC," began Will, flipping open his laptop. "I've come up with some weird stuff."

"Well, I'm in the business of weird," said Helen lightly, crossing the room and searching for an ice pack for her head.

Will laughed. "True. Well, the Turner Shipping Company is based out of Cairo. It does mostly international shipping - trade, like antiquities and things, from what I can tell. First weird thing, though. They aren't shipping their antiquities to places like the Smithsonian or the Louvre - it's mostly third world countries. Like, why would Mogadishu have a sudden need for Egyptian canopic jars?"

"Odd," Helen said, placing the compress on top of the bandage. "And Turner doesn't sound like an Egyptian name. Have you checked -"

"His background? That's the next weird thing. I can't find anyone by the name of Turner who might be the founder or owner of TSC. Anywhere."

"So it's an alias," Helen mused.

"Or the entire _company _might be a front." Will turned the computer so Helen could see. "I've checked out most of their manifests, and they're all squeaky clean - except for one week a month. That week, they only export one shipment, and that shipment is significantly lighter by the time it gets to wherever it's going."

"Hmm. Let me guess which week?" Helen put the cold compress on the table, folded her arms, and stared at her prisoner. "The week of the full moon."

"Yup," affirmed Will, looking warily in the same direction. "Doesn't make any sense though. Werewolves change ... _whenever_. They don't need the full moon to do it, right?"

"You're right, it's mostly affected by intense emotion, or physical pain or distress. During the full moon, though, they can't help changing. They _must_, their bodies have a biological need for it."

"And Henry?"

Helen winced, she knew that question was coming. "I was able to give Henry the same chemicals werewolves create during transformation. Synthetic, of course. His body has recently built up a bit of immunity." She dismissed the topic from any further discussion with a wave of her hand. "We've got to learn more about this company. I want to know where _she_ came from, and we need to get her back there."

"Is that really such a good idea?" Will said softly. The wolf-girl hadn't missed a beat. She continued throwing herself against the door. "She doesn't look very ... _safe._"

Helen shot Will a disapproving look, and crossed her arms. "She's probably just frightened. We simply need to talk to her."

"Okay then," Will said, throwing his hands up. "I'll go tell everyone she's awake."

* * *

Henry had put the samples from the Argentium, the dead man's blood, and some samples he got from the wolf-girl via the Big Guy into the machine and fell almost straight asleep. Right there, in his swivel chair, his dark head nestled on his arms, his legs askew. Not very restful sleep, but effective nonetheless. He'd hoped for dreams about tranquil lakes and butterflies. Instead he got a hunting dream.

Hunting dreams, as Henry had dubbed them, weren't nightmares. Well, they weren't nightmares _all_ of the time. They started in the forest, with him waking up surrounded by nothing by foilage. Then he'd be running - for hours and hours, free, powerful, _wild_ - and then he'd see it. Or smell it. His prey. Then came the tracking, the hunting. He would sniff and stalk and pick his way around until he was close. He could taste it. Then, he would pounce. He would rip and tear and kill, and then eat. And his prey wasn't always non-human.

Like now. He was hunting something very human. A man with a pump-action shotgun, dressed in coveralls.

Kate chose that moment to shake him, and Henry awoke with a quick snarl. Kate stepped back, surprised, and Henry could see the faintest glimmer of fear behind her eyes. Fear of him. Fear of what he was. Henry hated that damn feeling.

"Whoa, sorry," Kate began, putting her hands up to show her amiable nature, "Didn't mean to freak you out." Henry could tell that the statement wasn't really meant for him.

"Uhm, no. It's okay. Bad dream," Henry said, trying to string two words together that made sense. Hard to do with no sleep. "What's up?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah. _She's_ awake," said Kate.

"She? You mean -"

"Yup." Kate turned to leave, her usual flippant self again. "Magnus wants you down there, we're gonna try talking to her."

Henry nodded and gathered his laptop and things, not sure if Helen wanted him there merely for his own benefit or to do something constructive. He hoped it was the latter. Henry hated to be a burden.

He hurried after Kate, around the twisty turns of the Sanctuary, until they came within earshot of the _slams_ that emanated from the medical isolation chamber. Henry and Kate paused at the threshold, giving each other worried looks. Will leaned around the corner and waved them encouragingly in, but Henry still took a few extra moments before fully entering the room.

"Well, she's obviously not all that concerned about _modesty_," said Kate, a note of acid in her voice. It was true. The wolf-girl was dressed in only a hospital gown, and it wasn't staying on all that well, either. Her entire back was exposed and her left shoulder was free, showing off the intricate tribal tattoos on her arms, and now, her low back too. Her constant running to and fro was showing ample amounts of thigh and ass. Again, the boys oogled.

"The main issue here," began Helen, breaking the awkward silence, "is her health. If she keeps throwing herself at that door, she's going to break something, and I can't get in there and sedate her, she moves too fast."

"Well, I guess we'll just have to talk to her, then," said Will.

"Is that really a good idea? I mean, _look_ at her!" said Kate, pointing at the girl. "She doesn't look like she'll listen to reason."

"Might as well try, at least," Will said lightly, and stepped towards the glass. Henry stayed still and stayed silent.

"Er, hello," said Will, his finger on the button for the speaker system. Immediately, the woman whirled, her dark hair spinning in a brief tangled halo, and her wild eyes locked on Will's. She stood, still, looking at him for several long moments. Henry detected the briefest relaxation in Will's shoulders, and winced. She'd noticed it too. Weakness, she'd perceived it as weakness. She grinned wickedly and slammed herself up against the glass Will was leaning on, making everyone but Henry jump.

"Out! Out!" she screamed, her expression a mixture of joy at the reaction she'd gotten from her sudden move and pure fury at her containment. "_Release me!"_

Will gulped, but kept his composure. For now. Henry prayed he'd be able to keep it for long enough. "I'm sorry, I can't do that," he said, wavering just a little. She heard him falter and snarled, gnashing her teeth and pounding on the glass.

"_Infidel_! Release me at once!" Her words were accented heavily, and with each screech the timbre became more and more apparent. She appeared to be Middle-Eastern, Henry noted, what with her words and appearance.

"_No,_" said Will, and Henry was glad he'd gotten ahold of himself and was forceful. She backed off for a moment, letting her wild yellow eyes drift to Kate. She snorted and moved on to Helen.

"_You_," she said, pointing a long, sharp fingernail at the doctor, "saved my life. I owe you for this. I do not like to owe anyone. Especially _vampires_." She sneered and spat at her feet. Her eyes continued on until they finally rested on Henry. When they did, her entire demeanor changed.

Instead of appearing defensive, like she was until then (shoulders hunched, teeth bared, hands made into claws) she relaxed, letting her arms sit loosely by her sides, and pressing her lips into a thin line. Henry drew a slow, even breath. Instinct was all he was going on, right now. He'd gotten her to back off - if he screwed up, they'd probably not have another chance to talk to her lucidly for days. Unfortunately, he could think of nothing to say. Fortunately, he didn't have to.

"Kinsman," she said breathlessly. "I beg of you. Your pardon ... please, release me."

"Uhm," was all Henry could manage.

"What's your name?" Will said quickly. Nice save. The wolf-girl seemed to think so. Sneering again, she laughed a low, cruel laugh.

"Iris," she said, not taking her eyes off Henry. "They call me Iris."

* * *

**A/N:** Long break again, and I apologize. Thank you all for your wonderful feedback, I want to give you all great big hugs. You're awesome.


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